Alone
by Lizzzzzzzza
Summary: Always alone, always hunted. Always afraid, yearning to be held, and loved and wanted. But I'm alone, always alone, forever, and always. Alone, even with them here, why is it any different with you?


**Alone**

I've been alone, always; in thought, belief and mind. I'd walk with them, talk with them, act like them. But on the inside I'm screaming. I am NOT one of them. I do NOT believe in this. I never have, I never will. But what was I suppose to do? Rebel? Revolt against the revolution?

I slid into the red dress Mother had made the house elves set out for me. My heart yearned for the house elves. But no, house elves, were below me, I was suppose to beat them for their mistakes. I was not supposed to be filled with pity and pain when they threw themselves of the deck or lit their hair on fire. I wasn't supposed to help them when my stuck up family wasn't looking. I wasn't supposed to think my family stuck up. I was the misfit. I was in constant solitude. I was alone.

I turned around, and looked in the mirror across the room. The dress fit me exactly how Mother wanted it to. The top constricted and pushed my breast together. The round, plunging neck line should far too much of my chest then I would have ever preferred. Black sequences formed a symmetric design down my thin waist, which was also over exaggerated by this stupid dress. The bottom continued to hug my body as it fell to the floor. The length surprised me; usually Mother didn't have my skirts so long. The change was welcome though, I wasn't as willing to show of my body as Mother wanted me to be.

As they all wanted me to be. My entire life has been that. Running in circles, trying to be what they want. But what they want wasn't always best, in fact, it rarely was best. Their Pureblood beliefs were hereditary, not logical.

I turned to look at my dress from the side. A few strands of blonde hair escaped my tight bun and fell down across my crimson colored dress. Remembering Mothers preferences, I released the clip from my scalp, watching my hair tumble down across my back. My black eyes reflected the resentment I didn't know I was feeling. I loved my hair, but Mother treated it like she treated the rest of my body. Something that was only to be used to prove that we were better then others. To prove that we were better then others that we didn't even know.

I shuffled over to my closet and opened the deep french doors, stepping inside, I walked over to the corner where my shoes were. I picked up a pair of five inch black strappy shoes that I didn't know whether to classify as wedges or sandals.

I walked back out to the room and returned to the mirror right as Mother walked in. We didn't greet each other, as usual. She looked at me with her ever critical eyes. She walked in a circle around me, pocking my shoulders to reminded me of posture. I straighted my back and automatically hated what it caused the dress to do, expose me even further. I didn't take my eyes away from the mirror as Mother comtinued to analyze me. How was I related to her? We didn't even look alike, her, with brown hair and gray eyes, thick bones and round face. Then me, with petite everything, nose, facial structure, bones. I was tiny, my blonde hair seemed to have no roots in this family, and though my black eyes were common, mine were a complete shape. I was alone in mind and appearance.

Mother pulled out her wand and began to curl my hair, they fell down my back with as much poise as I was suppose to contain. Mother finished, motioned to the clock, and walked out. I followed her finger to see that I was due to arrive at the party in five minutes.

I followed her out the door and down the stairs. We were going to my big sisters 16th birthday party. A bunch of rich purebloods were coming to celebrate in some black tie event. Our family each had a grande entrance in which two tuxedoed men would open the door while someone else announced our full name, as the entire geust list watched us desended the marble staircase. It was supposedly romantic, dramatic and classy. Through out the party they would be serving a seven course meal, ball room dancing and several other high class entertainments. It was my sisters dream. It was my nightmare.

I stood behind the door, waited for the signal, and took a deep breath.

**So…. Like dislike? Please tell me!**


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